Spoon Development
in Late 18th Century Iceland

I.

The studios of a modest local TV franchise were recently
the scene of much dismay and consternation when businessman Mr Martin Gracefollicle was
invited onto their current affairs programme to plug his latest venture, a shop
specialising in the sale of a variety of different 'shapes'. In order to provide
both balance and local colour, two other guests were invited to join the discussion -
though it retrospect many people have questioned the wisdom of this decision.

Nigel Pigsworth:

Good evening. Well for tonight's edition of Thrust we're joined by
three very interesting characters indeed. Allow me to first introduce you to Martin
Gracefollicle.

Martin Gracefollicle:

Hello.

Nigel Pigsworth:

Mr Gracefollicle is a local entrepreneur and businessman who has just set up a shop
selling a variety of interesting shapes. We are also pleased to have his grace, the
Bishop of Liverpool with us.

Bishop:

Good evening.

Nigel Pigsworth:

The Bishop was recently in the news after voicing his concerns over the matter of
Sunday trading. And we are also delighted to be joined my Muriel
Damping-Frogtrotter, whom many of you will know as the outspoken president of the
organisation Ladies Against Rodent Abuse.

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter

Delighted.

Nigel Pigsworth:

Mr Gracefollicle, if I might first turn to you. I'm sure I can
say without fear of contradiction that your shop is unique in being the first in the
country, if not in the whole world, that specialises in the sale of shapes. How
exactly does it work?

Martin Gracefollicle:

Well, thank you, yes. Well basically, the idea behind Gush, is to-

Nigel Pigsworth:

Gush?

Martin Gracefollicle:

Yes, Gush - that's the name of the store. It's basically an
abbreviation of my original name for the store: Gracefollicle's Unlimited Discount Shape
Emporium. Anyway, the idea behind the business was to-

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter

Martin Gracefollicle:

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter

Bishop:

The lady's quite right, you know. Gudse - not a bit like Gush,
at all.

Martin Gracefollicle:

Yes, well, the problem is-

Bishop:

I mean, Gush, I suppose that's all right insofar as it goes; but
Gudse, now that's not anything at all, really, is it?

Martin Gracefollicle:

Well, quite. You've hit the nail bang on the head, there.
You see-

Bishop:

What is a Gudse? Where is this Gudse? Would I know one if I saw
one? It means nothing to nobody.

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

I knew a young chap by the name of Gudse when I was a school.
And a beastly fellow he was too.

Bishop:

Really, my dear. How awful.

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

Oh it was, it was. He used to sit behind me during geography,
and when the teacher wasn't looking, he would put beans in my hair.

Bishop:

The insolent swine! And you with such a beautiful head of curls.

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

Oh, why thank you, your grace.

Bishop:

Not at all! Not at all! Tell me, what sort of beans did he
use?

Martin Gracefollicle:

Excuse me, but is this at all relevant? My sympathies to Miss
Damping-Frogtrotter, of course, but does the particular species of vegetable with which
she was assaulted really warrant such a lengthy diversion from the topic of our
conversation?

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

Why really!

Nigel Pigsworth:

Are beans classed as vegetables?

Bishop:

Steady on there, Gracefollicle! As a matter of fact, the subject
is of great concern, both to those who are keen gardeners, and to a great many of the
general public who have followed Miss Damping-Frogtrotter's career with such frank
admiration. I am happy to point out that I fall into both categories.

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

Oh, that really is most sweet of you, your grace.

Bishop:

What's more, the nature of the beans in question is of paramount
importance. If they were runner beans, then we are concerning ourselves with an
annoying and relatively harmless prank. If, on the other hand, this despicable bully
had used baked beans, then we would obviously be dealing with something a good deal more
serious.

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

He used broad beans, and sometimes as many as five.

Bishop:

The scoundrel!

Martin Gracefollicle:

Oh really! This is intolerable!

Nigel Pigsworth:

I quite agree. In fact, this is possibly the most harrowing tale
of intimidation that I have heard in many a long year. That a simple bean can become
such a devastating weapon when it falls into the wrong hands-

Martin Gracefollicle:

No! No! No! No! What is intolerable is
that you invite me on your programme to talk about my new store, Gudse, and-

Nigel Pigsworth:

You mean Gush?

Martin Gracefollicle:

Yes, yes, I mean Gush! Well you invite me here to talk about
it, and then won't allow me to get a word in edgewise. Is there really any point in
my being here at all? Perhaps you'd like me to leave now so that your viewers can
enjoy a frank and uninterrupted conversation on the subject of vegetables between Miss
Damping-Frogtrotter and the Bishop here?

Nigel Pigsworth:

I am most terribly sorry. Yes, we do seem to have strayed from
the point somewhat. Please, continue.

Martin Gracefollicle:

Well, as I was saying, the idea behind Gush was to-

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

Do you think he's going to explain where the name comes from?

Bishop:

Oh yes, I expect he's going to do that any minute now.

At this point Martin Gracefollicle was heard to mutter a
string of expletives, then he removed his radio mic and left the studio.

Bishop:

On the other hand, I fear he may keep us in suspense.

II.

There followed a brief recording break, in which His
Grace the Bishop of Liverpool and Miss Damping-Frogtrotter were treated to a small
selection of fish paste sandwiches. The programme's producer, meanwhile, took the
opportunity of this lull in the proceedings to persuade Mr Martin Gracefollicle to
return. His efforts at diplomacy having succeeded, Mr Gracefollicle once again took
his place in the studio, and the host did his best to pick up somewhere near where they
had left off.

Nigel Pigsworth:

So, Mr Gracefollicle, please tell us about this exciting new venture of
yours. Gush, I believe is the name of the store?

Martin Gracefollicle:

That's right, yes. It started out as an abbreviation of my
original name for the store...

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

But-

Nigel Pigsworth:

Shush!

Martin Gracefollicle:

...although, for the sake of clarity, and to save us all from further
conversational meanderings, I should point out that I took certain liberties with this
acronym, in the interests of coming up with a, memorable, trendy and exciting name for the
store.

Bishop:

Quite right too. Won't get very far calling a shop 'Gudse'.
It gives quite the wrong impression. I knew, a fellow once who-

Nigel Pigsworth:

Bishop, if we could...?

Bishop:

What? Oh yes, of course. Not another word from me.
Do carry on.

Martin Gracefollicle:

Thank you. Well, the basic idea behind this venture was to sell
a variety of different items of specific shapes. So, for example, on the ground
floor of the shop you will find a large number of round things. The first floor is
our rectangle department, whereas the top floor is where you'll find our triangle
selection, plus a small sample of hexagonal merchandise.

Bishop:

Personally, I don't think you can beat a rhombus.

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

Is that one of the ones with eight sides?

Bishop:

No, no, no. You're thinking of an octopus. A rhombus is
like a square, but sort of leaning over to one side.

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

Oh, I don't like the sound of that. It's not natural, is
it? Is it continental? It certainly sounds foreign.

Martin Gracefollicle:

As a matter of fact, we haven't ventured into rhombuses yes, but it's
something we may be looking into once the store has become established.

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

Well, I don't think it's on at all. You shouldn't be selling
rhombuses in a good, middle class town like this.

Martin Gracefollicle:

We aren't. Not yet, anyway.

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

You're a cruel and unusual man, and it's a wonder that the council
ever granted you a licence. I'm going to write to someone to get it stopped.

Bishop:

Now, if you ask me, what we all really need is a good parabola.
Can't get a decent parabola anywhere.

Martin Gracefollicle:

To get what stopped? What is all this?

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

All of it! Whatever it is you're doing! It's a disgrace!

Bishop:

I should say so - to think that in this day an age it's still
impossible for a gentleman to walk down his local street and buy a parabola. I had
to send to Taiwan for one last year. And when it arrived, it was bent.

Martin Gracefollicle:

Oh this is ridiculous. Must I be made to suffer this absurd
pantomime?

At this point a woman in the fifth row of the audience
suddenly stood up and, much to the concern of the host, announced herself to be Mrs
Harriet Feast. She then pointed at Mr Gracefollicle and, with a face red with fury,
she declared him to be a charlatan.

Harriet Feast:

That man has done me an injustice!

Bishop:

Hello, what's this?

Nigel Pigsworth:

Madam, please - we are in the middle of a recording.

Harriet Feast:

No, no, no - I shall not desist. Not until the whole world knows
what a foul and deceitful villain your guest really is.

Nigel Pigsworth:

Please, Mrs Feast, whatever feud you have with Mr Gracefollicle-

Harriet Feast:

Ha! He may be 'Mr Gracefollicle' to you, but I knew him when he
was a greengrocer in Hendon, and went by the name of Archie Cod.

Martin Gracefollicle:

I have never been a greengrocer in my life! And the only occasion I
visited Hendon was when I stopped off at a corner shop to buy some travel sweets, and
later found much to my dismay, that I had been given the incorrect change.

Harriet Feast:

A likely story! Mr Gracefollicle, as he now wishes to be known,
is no doubt eager to convince us all that he is the kind of respectable, upstanding pillar
of the community who is in the habit of buying travel sweets. But, let me tell you,
he wasn't so respectable when he left me standing at the altar!

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

Oh, you poor dear!

Bishop:

Gracefollicle, you unprincipled swine!

Martin Gracefollicle:

But I have never seen this woman before in my entire life!

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

Well, you would say that.

Bishop:

Of course he would, the utter cad.

Harriet Feast:

Oh, he would! He would! To think how I would long to visit
him in his little greengrocer's. How he wooed me beside the carrots and the
yams. Oh, how we gazed lovingly into each other's eyes across the turnips. To
think that he should turn out to be such a foul abuser.

Martin Gracefollicle:

Enough! Enough! I don't know what tomfoolery this is, but
I'm not putting up with it any longer.

Once again Mr Gracefollicle abandoned his microphone and
walked off set, this time accompanied by the boos and catcalls of the disapproving
audience.

III.

A disappointed producer eventually caught up with the
furious Mr Gracefollicle in a local hostelry several streets from the studio, and did his
best to persuade him to return. After Mr Gracefollicle's temper had been mellowed by
two pints of the best German lager that the producer's money could buy, it was agreed that
they would reconvene for one more go at getting something usable in the can. With
the proviso, of course, that Mrs Harriet Feast be ejected from the premises.
Nevertheless, Mr Gracefollicle remained a trifle reticent.

Nigel Pigsworth:

Mr Gracefollicle, I believe the grand opening of your new store is set
for this Saturday?

Martin Gracefollicle:

Yes.

Nigel Pigsworth:

Yes, good. And I'm also led to believe that you have a celebrity
guest to perform the honours.

Martin Gracefollicle:

Yes.

Nigel Pigsworth:

Yes... Wouldn't you like to tell us a little more?

Martin Gracefollicle:

Is it going to be worth my while? I mean, am I going to be able
to get to the end of a sentence without being interrupted by some harpy in the audience,
or by these two clowns here?

Bishop:

I say, that's a bit strong. Ladies present, and all that.

Martin Gracefollicle:

I'm sorry, but after the shambolic way I've been treated so far, I
think I have every reason to be a little churlish.

Nigel Pigsworth:

No, please, do go on. We are all anxious to hear what plans you
have for the great unveiling.

Martin Gracefollicle:

Well, yes, it should be quite an eventful day. There are going to be
competitions and games. We've got a grand prize draw to win a car. There will
also be lots of give-aways, and we'll have clowns and street performers. There's
going to be a real carnival atmosphere. There will be hats and streamers and
balloons. And as you say, there will be a special celebrity guest. We've been
lucky enough to persuade the popular film actor Mr_____, and he will personally-

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

My aunt once fell off a steamer. It was a terrible business.

Bishop:

I think he said 'streamers'?

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

Oh no, there were no streamers. If there had been, it might
have been something for her to cling onto as she went over. There were a few
balloons around, I think, but you can't really get enough purchase on a balloon. Not
to prevent yourself falling off a boat, anyhow.

Martin Gracefollicle:

Excuse me, I was talking about-

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

No, she went whoosh! Straight over the side. Didn't stand
a chance, poor thing. She got swept underneath and caught up the paddle. It
folded her right up.

For the third and final time, Mr Gracefollicle rose from
his seat, removed his microphone, and left the studio with as much dignity as he could
muster, never to return.

Bishop:

That must have been horrible for you - to lose a relative in such
tragic circumstances.

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

We didn't lose her. They managed to drag her out, but she was
horribly creased and crumpled. She lived to be eighty, but she never did manage to
get the kinks out.

Bishop:

Oh terrible, terrible!

Miss Damping-Frogtrotter:

Oh, that's nothing - you should have seen the state of her wheelchair.